Wrong Place
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Scully ponders the meaning of fate...


All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... 

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org 

Summary: Scully ponders the meaning of fate...Rating: G, Story - spoilers for "Tempus Fugit" and "Max"... 

Wrong Place...by Sheryl Martin 

The funeral was small and intimate; Pendrell's family declining the larger FBI ceremony for a gentler, less official gathering. But she had to be there, and sat in the back of the church with the other agents. 

Mulder shifted his weight in the pew; slightly uncomfortable. He wasn't a big fan of churches in the first place, death in the second... and seeing the weeping mother in the front pew brought a lump to his throat that just wouldn't go away. He could feel Scully leaning into his side; using him as support. Casually reaching over, he put his hand atop hers where it lay on her leg; squeezing it lightly as they stared ahead at the minister continuing the prayers. 

It was over almost too soon; but soon enough. The coffin travelled down the centre aisle; followed by the mother and father; a sister behind. As they disappeared through the church doors Mulder could feel the air seeping out of his partner; the body slumping against his as the rest of the mourners filed out. 

"Let me go get the car." Bending over, he whispered to Scully. "The graveside service is private anyway; and we'll play hooky for the rest of the day." He gave her a sly wink. "Got a basketball game on tonight." 

Forcing a smile onto her face, she nodded. Releasing her hand, Mulder slipped from the pew and disappeared into the crowd; nodding at familiar faces and talking softly to other agents as he made his way out. 

Taking a shaky breath, the redhead turned to look forward at the elegantly decorated church; trying desperately to remember a prayer and failing miserably. 

"Agent Scully." 

Whipping her head quickly to one side, she watched as Assistant Director Skinner sat down beside her; his dark suit tight on his broad shoulders. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together and stared ahead. 

"Thank you for coming. Even though the family requested a private burial they did appreciate the Bureau's attendance." 

"Well, he died because of the Bureau." The words grated out through tight lips. "Because Pendrell wanted to buy me a birthday drink." 

Sitting back, Skinner nodded. "The investigation concluded that the gunman was targeting your prisoner; with you as a secondary target. It was just bad luck that Agent Pendrell was in the way." 

"Yah." Scully turned away with a choked laugh. "Wrong time, wrong place. It happens a lot around people in the X Files." 

He stared at her coolly until she turned back to face him. "Scully, it's not your fault. It was an accident." 

"Like my sister's death was an accident. Like Mulder's mother having a stroke was an accident. Funny how it works, hmm?" The sarcasm was thick in her voice. "It's amazing how these accidents keep circling around us." Drawing in her breath over clenched teeth, she sighed. "And we're always left picking up the pieces." 

"Agent Scully." The tone in his voice demanded that she turn and face him. "I don't believe in accidents. I think that things happen for a purpose, for a reason. We may not see it at the time; and may not for years, but we will eventually find out why it happened." 

She brushed away a tear roughly from her eye. "Very philosophical, sir. But hardly practical." 

"Then what would you prefer to believe? That people die for no reason; that death itself has no effect on the survivors except to show them the futility of life?" He clenched and unclenched his hands. "Pendrell's death wasn't wasted. Nor his life. All these agents here; all his friends will remember that it could happen to them as easily - not in a blaze of glory and in the line of duty. That an 'accident' could have their family here next week." 

"Yes, sir." She sniffed softly. 

"Scully, you can go on and remember this as one of the worst things that's happened to you. That this was a wasted death; that it shouldn't have happened. But it did. It could have been any civilian in that bar; anyone passing by. Even Mulder." 

Her eyes met his with an electric shock. 

"And if it had been Mulder there in the coffin; I think that you would be channelling these feelings into some sort of positive action. Not wondering at why life keeps tossing you into whirlpools of pain." 

"But it was pointless." Scully shook her head. "What can you find in that?" 

"No one's death is ever pointless." Skinner said quietly. "No one ever dies without leaving some part of themselves behind and what we do with it either makes their lives meaningful or meaningless." Taking a deep breath, he paused before continuing. "I've seem my friends die. And at a certain point you have to choose whether to fight or give up. Surrender to the darkness and let it rule your life or dig your nails into the dirt and fight your way onwards and upwards." He fell silent for a few minutes. Outside they could hear the mourners dispersing; the cars driving away. 

"Sir..." She looked at him thoughtfully. "You know you sound a lot like Mulder at times." 

For a second a smile flashed across Skinner's face; quickly replaced by a stern frown. "Agent Scully, I'll expect you back to work tomorrow morning." Getting to his feet, he looked at her partner who had just appeared. "Mulder." With a sharp nod of his head, he walked out. 

"What's up with him?" Mulder jabbed a thumb after the retreating AD. "He looks like you just called him a nasty name..." 

With a chuckle she slid out of the pew to stand beside him. "Maybe I did." Tucking her arm into his, the redhead sighed. "Home, Mulder. We've got work to do." 

********* 


End file.
